


Father

by Jessica314



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica314/pseuds/Jessica314
Summary: Set five years after Breaking Dawn. While traveling in London with Edward, Carlisle finds himself face-to-face with a man he hasn't seen since 1663. Two-shot, Carlisle POV.
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

_…_ _pairing between the homologs is inhibited. However, it differs from classical gene conversion by its high frequency, its requirement for P transposase, its unidirectionality, and its occurrence in somatic and premeiotic_ -

I looked up from my article, distracted by a gentle tap on my home office door. "Come in," I called softly. The door opened and Edward came in, carrying a large brown folder. I smiled and closed my journal. "You're back early. Didn't Renesmee like the aquarium?"

"She loved it," he answered as he sat down across from me. "Until we got to the sharks, that is."

"She was afraid?"

"No, she got thirsty. It was feeding time, and she was fascinated by their movements as they took their prey. She was wondering what shark blood tasted like, but Bella got her to settle for a hot dog. Anyway, we decided to come home after that."

"Sharks to hot dogs," I mused. "She's a marvel."

He grinned. "I know. So, are you curious?" he asked, waving the brown folder toward me. I held out my hand and took it, breaking the seal.

"It's a little gift for Father's Day," he said casually.

Inside the folder, I found a brochure for the National Gallery in London, along with two plane tickets, scheduled for arrival at Heathrow on July 1st. "You're sending Esme and I to London?" I asked in confusion.

His smile faded. "Oh. I was thinking of going with you myself- just the two of us. But, of course, if you'd rather take Esme-"

I held up my hand. "It's perfect," I said with a smile. "You and I haven't traveled alone together in what, eight years?" _It'll be just like old times. What's at the gallery that week?_

"Check the schedule."

I opened the brochure, scanning down to the right date. On the week of July 3rd, there was a special exhibition of works by selected Baroque painters, featuring Caravaggio, Rembrandt, and…

"Solimena," I read aloud, sitting up straighter in my chair.

"I called, and they said it's going to be the most complete Solimena exhibition to date. They've spent the past two years getting collectors to lend their originals for the week. In fact, they're only missing one," he added with a sly grin, his eyes drifting back toward the painting in question. "We wouldn't want the exhibition to be incomplete, would we?"

.

.

.

Two weeks later, we were in the air. I had sent the painting on ahead via a private courier service, and we had packed light. I only required a couple changes of clothes, a black hair dye kit, and a pair of eyeglasses. It was unlikely that anyone was going to recognize me in the painting, but it was better to be on the safe side.

It was wonderful to be travelling with Edward again. Up until today, he had never been away from Bella and Renesmee for more than six hours at a time. Now that Renesmee's growth was slowing down, though, he was more willing to be apart from her for a few days. As for Bella- well, I was sure that he would be calling her the instant the plane landed.

The last time the two of us had traveled alone, it had been for quite a different purpose. It was back in 2003, right before we moved to Forks. The possibility of there still being werewolves on the Peninsula was the only thing keeping us from our final decision, and rather than move everyone and everything needlessly, Edward and I had decided to take a weekend trip to scope out the area. We had spent a full day and night zigzagging across the peninsula, searching for any trace of werewolf scent. When we didn't find any, we cautiously approached the treaty line and spent another night walking along the length of it. Edward had wanted to cross the line and get a closer "look" at the minds within the Reservation, but I had felt that we should respect the treaty, even if the wolves had died out-which it appeared they had. We had returned to our family the next day, reporting that the move was a go. Ironically enough, it may very well have been that brief visit that triggered Sam's transition during the months that followed.

I remembered feeling a bit anxious on that trip, as we were flying to Washington. I had had no way of knowing if we were going to find any werewolves, and, if so, how our visit would be received. Edward and I were both hoping that the werewolves had died out, so that we could return to the Olympic Peninsula in peace. Ever since our family – minus Alice and Jasper- had lived there back in the thirties, we had always wanted to return. We had lived in so many places, but that was the one that had always felt like home. And now, flying back to my true homeland, I felt some anxiety as well.

It wasn't as though I had been _avoiding_ London all these centuries. I had certainly avoided it for most of the remainder of the seventeenth century, for several reasons. I had avoided all populated areas, in the beginning; I didn't know much about what I had become, but I knew what would happen if I let myself get too close to the human populace.

It was more than that, though. I suppose I wanted to avoid running into the coven of vampires that had been my undoing, and I certainly didn't want to encounter any more raiding parties like the one I had led that fateful night. But the real reason was my human father. After fifteen years, I had finally felt strong enough to go visit him. Oh, he never knew I was there. I didn't know of the Volturi's law at the time, but I knew better than to reveal myself. Not just because of the danger, but because I knew what my father's reaction would be. He was a self-righteous, compassionless man whose only joy in life was finding things to hate. And while he never came out and said it, it was clear that I was one of those things. I had been the one who had caused my mother's death, and he had made sure- quite often- to remind me of that fact. My brief human life had been one futile attempt after another to earn his approval.

So when I finally got up the courage to approach the parsonage, back in 1678, I kept my distance. I got close enough that I could see him walking around at night, hunched over in his old age as his gnarled hands carried the night candle from the kitchen to the bedroom. And I was close enough to see the ever-present scowl on his face, deepened now with wrinkles. I could also see, scattered around the property, the familiar evidence of his favorite ministry: wooden stakes, a garlic patch, and a row of burned-out torches.

It was the garlic patch that confirmed my suspicion that he hadn't changed. The patch was still well-tended, and I knew that my father hated the taste of garlic. There was only one reason that he was continuing to grow it: to keep monsters like me away. When I saw this, I felt an uncharacteristic stirring of anger, and a ridiculous urge to throw open the door, and take a huge bite of garlic right in front of him. As I watched my father walk through the house, I noticed something new hanging in the sitting room: a portrait of myself. As my father walked past it, he reached up and laid his fingers reverently on the image, bowing his head for a moment of prayer before moving on into his bedroom.

I suppose it was what any father would have done- keeping up a picture of his son, long presumed dead. Another father might have kept it out of love, or nostalgia. But I had recognized the reverence in his movements as he had touched the picture. It was the reverence he held for all Christian martyrs, and I had seen him do it with other paintings before. It seemed that with my death, I had done what I had never managed in life: I had finally made him proud. He had lost his only son in the battle against evil- it must have been an immense source of satisfaction to him. In a way, his prophecy, that he had muttered under his breath more than once during my childhood, had come true: I really _was_ better off dead.

By the time the candle was blown out, my anger had faded into grief. Not grief for the father that I had lost; grief for the father I had never had in the first place.

I came back at the same time every night, watching from the distance. The parsonage was far enough out of town that it wasn't too painful for my throat, and I felt a sense of duty to watch over the pitiful man who lived alone there.

My duty didn't last long. Less than a fortnight into my vigil, the parsonage was devoid of candlelight one evening. The smell of death was already on the air, and I only entered the cottage long enough to close his eyes and cover him with a blanket. I stole over to the nearest neighbor and left a note on their door alerting them to their parson's death, and ran away after knocking on the door.

I kept running. I ran until there wasn't any land left, and then I started swimming- anything to escape my father's dead eyes. It wasn't until I heard a fisherman speaking French that I realized where I was.

I never returned to London again. It was superstitious nonsense to think that my father's spirit was hovering over the city, frowning down on me, but that was how I imagined it. London had never brought me any kind of happiness before, and though I had visited other corners of the British Isles since, I had never wanted to return.

I was brought out of my memories by a light touch on my knee. I opened my eyes to see Edward leaning toward me, his brow furrowed with worry.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly. "I never thought about what it might be like for you to return to London."

 _No, I want to do this_ , I thought back. _That was a long time ago._ A smile twitched at the corner of Edward's lips as he settled back into his own seat, no doubt watching my thoughts warily. I closed my eyes again, reassuring him mentally that I would be all right.

.

.

.

I spent the rest of the day showing my son around the city of my youth. There were some familiar sights: Hampton Court Palace, the Tower of London, The Banqueting House, Eltham Palace. But almost everything else was new. Edward and I had a good laugh as we looked through the "Historic Sites" brochure, discovering that most of the sites were younger than me.

"At least it's still cloudy," I remarked, tossing the brochure into a recycle bin. "That particular feature has stood the test of time."

As night was falling, we decided to check out the National Art Library. We slipped in just as they were closing; we would spend the night here. Our hotel room was just that, after all; a room. While the city slept, we would be poring through the historical riches that awaited us.

The Library was beautiful, inside and out. We made our way upstairs and hid while the watchman made his rounds. After the lights were off, I settled down with a couple of books I had found about Solimena's life, while Edward went off in search of some musical literature.

It was less than an hour later that I heard the telltale creak of a window opening. It seemed that it was coming from somewhere on the eastern end of the building. There was a flash of white and Edward was standing next to me.

"Vampire," he whispered, and I left my books, sniffing the air curiously. Before long a unique sweetness filled the air, and I shook my head silently; it was no one I knew.

"He's thinking about some sort of research project. He likes to come here, but it's been a while. We should leave."

_I hardly think he's a threat, son. Anyone who sneaks into a library at night is probably not the type to attack without question._ _Anyway, he's probably already smelled us._ _Come on, let's see who it is._

Edward followed me reluctantly as I made my way toward the source of the scent. He had been with me a few times that I had met new vampires, and despite his gift, he simply wasn't as trusting as I was. Having met so many of our kind over the centuries, I had long ago lost my trepidation. Most nomads were skittish, but not unfriendly. I had encountered few among our kind who weren't eager for some conversation, even if they didn't want to keep in touch.

Edward stiffened beside me, and turned back around. Standing before us was a pleasant-looking vampire, impeccably dressed in a gray suit. He was tall and lean, his grey-speckled hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He wore stylish sunglasses, which he now took off as he nodded pleasantly to Edward. He turned to greet me, as well.

His smile faded instantly. Edward gasped aloud half a second later, drawing closer to me in a flash. It took me another full second, as I filtered through my hazy human memories at lightning speed, to recognize him. As I looked into his crimson eyes, fear and shock raced through me as my hand crept up to the right side of my neck. Images of dark streets and torchlight flashed before my eyes, and the memory of a burning pain where my hand was now.

This was him. This was the vampire who had bitten me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! I can't thank you all enough for all the kind reviews! I think you'll all enjoy the final (and much, much longer) chapter. Special thanks to Just4Me, who named Carlisle's creator, and I also used RosieHorgan7's name idea for another vampire. Enjoy!**

Every muscle in my body tensed, but I was unable to move. I could only stand and stare as I tried to comprehend the sight of the man in front of me. A part of me wanted to run, to escape the powerful being who had so easily destroyed my human life. Another part of me wanted to attack, to avenge my own death. Still another part of me was thinking only of Edward, and how I had to protect him.

But the largest part of me was curious. This vampire looked so polished, so sophisticated- so unlike the wild, unkempt creature that I remembered. He had been covered in filth, and he had seemed so old and weak, even at the moment he had attacked me. I hadn't given him a thought in so long- I suppose that in my uninformed first days as a vampire myself, I had assumed that he had already died of old age. Even though I had later learned about our immortality, it had never occurred to me to wonder whether my creator was still out there.

He spoke before I could. "I… I tried to find you," he said hesitantly. "I came back, when I could, but I couldn't find your scent… I would have… I'm sorry," he finished, looking miserable.

Edward glanced back and forth between the two of us. His hand was still crushing my arm, but his posture began to relax and he turned to fully face my creator. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Ronan." He looked fearfully back at Edward, and then back at me again, backing up a step. "Your eyes… both of you. What…?"

I finally found my voice. "My name is Carlisle, and this is Edward. We're not going to hurt you."

"Carlisle," he repeated softly. "Carlisle, I'm terribly sorry for all of this. It was an accident, I assure you. I hadn't fed in weeks- I was out of my mind with thirst. I would never have condemned you to this life. I would have come back and finished it, if the Volturi hadn't-"

"The Volturi?" Edward interrupted sharply. "What do you have to do with _them_?"

"Edward, please," I sighed. _You're going to scare him off._ _He's just another vampire, son._ _Let's give him a chance._

Edward shook his head, glaring at Ronan for another moment. But he finally released my arm, and retreated back to my side.

"Perhaps I should begin at the beginning," Ronan offered.

"If you would," I replied gently. My fear had faded quickly, leaving me to my curiosity. This man clearly wasn't a threat to me- not anymore.

"I was born in what you would call 84 A.D., in a small village near what is now St. Albans- that's only about twenty miles from here. My father was a scribe, and he had a contract with the household of Lucius Neratius Marcellus- he was the Roman Governor of Brittania at the time, under the emperor Trajan. He was quite successful, and I had grown up with quite the education."

"You're over nineteen hundred years old?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes," he sighed. "Anyway, when Hadrian came into power, there was even more expansion and development around Londinium. I became a scribe like my father, only I travelled quite a bit more, since I was attached to the military."

"You were a slave, then?" Edward asked.

"Certainly not," Ronan replied. "I'm sure that those soft-footed patricians back in Rome saw us Britons as blue-painted Celtic savages, but the local governors and garrisons knew better. And besides, most British slaves back then had been taken or sold up North. But families like mine were treated well. Many of my boyhood friends were sons of Roman officials or soldiers. And while I never achieved Roman citizenship, and while I never had the same legal rights as many of my friends, I enjoyed most of the benefits of their association."

"Fascinating," I breathed. "Go on."

"Anyway, it was the travelling that doomed me, in the end. Part of the legion I was attached to was sent up North to deal with one of the tribes that had been causing trouble. While we travelled, I was actually planning on it being my last trip- I was forty-five, after all. I had never married or had children, but I was looking forward to a quiet retirement. And that trip did prove to be my last, though not in the way that I had expected."

He shook his head, closing his eyes as he travelled back in time. "We had already completed our mission, and had camped in the shelter of Hadrian's wall that night. But for me, morning never came. I was awoken by the odd sensation of being carried. Before my eyes had fully opened, I felt a pain at my throat, and I was only able to scream for a couple of seconds. I was about to lose consciousness when the vampire dropped me, running away from the soldiers that had followed my screams. I was already paralyzed with the venom, and they thought I was dead- I suppose I was close to it, anyway. They tossed me into the grave that they had already dug for those that had died of their wounds that night. I passed the rest of my transformation in the common grave, breaking out when I had the use of my body again."

Edward just stared blankly, his eyes darting back and forth as he watched the events play out in Ronan's mind. "What a way to wake up," he murmured.

"Yes, it was rather ironic. I woke up, undead, among the dead. And mad for blood, when I was surrounded by stale blood that could not sustain me. And even though I was crazed with thirst, I didn't want to feed on the soldiers guarding the Wall. I simply leapt over it and tracked down the tribe that we had just dealt with. It was stupid, really- I had always fancied myself more Roman than Briton. And I had always been proud of the fact that my calluses were due to a pen, and not a sword. Unlike the soldiers I spent most of my time with, I had always been a peaceable man. But suddenly, I was not only a murderer, but I was preying upon my own countrymen, in my twisted sense of loyalty to my conquerors. It wasn't until the Romans left that I began to think of myself as a Briton, and so I decided to start feeding on the new enemies that began to arrive. Our country has always been invaded, Carlisle- it's sort of a tradition. I've fed on all sorts of enemies through the centuries- Angles, Vikings, Saxons, Danes, Normans, Germans… there was always someone."

I turned to Edward, grinning. "I think Ronan and Liam would get along, don't you?"

Edward snorted. "I doubt it. If there's anything Liam hates, it's Englishmen. Present company excluded, of course. I wouldn't- oh!" He looked back at Ronan. "You _do_ know Liam, don't you? And Siobhan and Maggie?"

Ronan just stared back at Edward curiously, as did I. It was an unspoken rule that my talented children were not to reveal their gifts to strangers until I felt it was safe- though, of course, meeting strangers didn't happen very often. Edward must have seen enough by now to feel that he could trust Ronan. He gave me a slight nod before explaining himself.

"Pardon me, Ronan. I have a gift- the ability to read minds. When we were discussing Liam, I saw you picture him, and realized that we had a mutual friend."

Ronan continued to stare. After a few moments, Edward nodded. "No, only current thoughts." He paused again. "Yes, of course. It's quite all right. Oh! Yes, we do." Then he barked out a laugh.

"Edward," I said impatiently. I supposed that I deserved it, after so many decades of having silent conversations with my son with others present. But it was rather frustrating to be the one left out- as Esme and our other children had complained more times than I could count.

"Sorry," he said, glancing back at me. "Ronan was just showing me all the vampires he's acquainted with. He knows Alistair, as well."

"Alistair! What is he up to lately?"

"Hiding," Edward and Ronan said in unison, and all three of us broke into laughter.

"He seems to be under the impression that the Volturi are out to get him," Ronan explained. "Something about choosing his friends poorly."

Edward and I sobered quickly. We were, no doubt, the friends that he had been referring to. "Poor Alistair," I said vaguely. "Where were we?"

"Ah, yes," Ronan said. "Anyway, things got tricky in the late Middle Ages. It got to the point where everyone in England was of such mixed stock that I couldn't decide who to hunt anymore. So I switched to hunting criminals, instead, no matter their race. And that's what I continue to do- I still hate to kill, but at least I'm doing humanity a favor, a couple of times a week."

"Hunting the human monsters," Edward mused, dropping his eyes. I laid my hand on his shoulder, mentally reminding him of my love and forgiveness. He had forgiven himself- eventually- for his actions during his rebellious years, but they still haunted him from time to time.

"Yes, exactly," Ronan said with a dejected sigh. Edward met his gaze again, his eyes softening as he listened to something in Ronan's thoughts.

"There's another way," he said gently.

Ronan glanced between the two of us, as he had in the beginning. "What do you mean? Is it something about your eyes?"

I nodded. "We don't drink human blood at all- just animal blood. It makes our eyes this color."

Ronan's own crimson eyes widened in surprise. "Animals? I never thought of that. I mean, is it any… good?"

"It's nowhere near as good as human blood," Edward said darkly. "But you get used to it, and in time, you can develop certain favorites. Mine is mountain lion."

"And mine is elk," I added. Edward just rolled his eyes disdainfully. "We call ourselves vegetarians," I continued. "Not only does our diet allow us to respect human life, but it allows us more freedom. Our wilder instincts are somewhat repressed, which allows us to live in larger groups. It also gives us more freedom among humans, due to our eye color and our practiced ability to resist the call of human blood."

"Not that it's easy," Edward interrupted. "The temptation is always there, and it would be quite challenging for you, considering how long you've been used to human blood. But it's worth a try- just imagine never having to kill another human."

Ronan's handsome face burst into a hopeful smile. "Yes, I would like to try."

I was speechless. Every time I encountered a new vampire, I shared my philosophy with them, in hopes of persuading them to try it. And though most were polite about it, I had never actually had any takers. To my knowledge, Garrett, Eleazar, and Carmen were the only vampires in existence who had switched because of someone else's influence- and all those had been due to the Denalis. Alice had technically switched because of me, and by extension, Jasper, but since they had already been hunting animals when they arrived to join our family, I didn't generally think of them as learning it from me. As silly as it was, I had always wished that _I_ could succeed in "converting" another vampire to our way of life.

"What about us?" Edward asked, nudging my arm. "You've got a whole family of vegetarians, haven't you?"

"That's different. You were raised that way."

"Family? Raised?" Ronan asked.

"Edward was the first one that I transformed," I explained, pulling out my wallet. "I found him dying in a hospital in 1918. And not long after that…" I showed him all of the pictures I carried with me as I briefly told the story of each family member, ending with the newer pictures of Bella and Renesmee.

By the time I had finished the stories, the sun had already risen, and the library was open for business again. Ronan put on his sunglasses as we slipped out the front door, and we continued to talk as we strolled together through the streets of London. Ronan was staring straight ahead, and Edward just watched curiously as his mind raced through everything we had just told him.

"It's a lot to take in," Ronan said finally. "Animal blood, a mate and family, a medical career, a hybrid grandchild… you've had quite an interesting life so far, Carlisle. Amazing."

"Well, I suppose I have you to thank for that," I said honestly. "To be truthful, my human years were rather bleak. And while I can't say that I would have chosen this life, I have to admit that it has brought me great joy, at least in the last century."

"I can't tell you what relief that brings me," Ronan said happily. "I've always… well, worried about you. I would never have created a vampire on purpose."

"Yes, you were saying something about that, before I interrupted," Edward said. "My apologies, by the way. I'm only seventeen, and I tend to… overreact at times when it comes to protecting those I love."

"Yes, I can see you care deeply for your creator," Ronan said in admiration.

"My _father_ ," Edward corrected, proudly putting his hand on my shoulder. "Though I don't usually call him that, Carlisle is in every way the father that I need. The rest of my siblings, and my wife, feel the same way as well. And my daughter loves her vampire grandfather as much as she does her human one."

Ronan just shook his head, smiling in amazement. "A mixed family. Incredible."

"Are you still a part of the coven that you were with in 1663?" I asked.

"No, I've never even had a mate. And I am the only surviving member of that group- the rest were executed by the Volturi less than a day after you exposed us."

I stopped walking, my throat constricting in horror. "Are you saying that I was responsible for the death of your coven? Ronan, I had no idea-"

He held up his hand. "Please, don't feel badly about it. For one thing, I wouldn't have called us a _coven_ , exactly. We had only met up a few years before, and only our loneliness and our common desire to hear Latin spoken again kept us together that long. And anyway, the Volturi were already on their way, by that night when you and I met. One of the vampires in our little group- Claudius- had a rather macabre sense of humor, and his pranks had already caught the attention of the Volturi. He had a rather stupid habit of leaving his victims out in plain sight. He enjoyed having a reputation among the humans, and his actions had gotten the attention of one of the local preachers, who-"

"My father," I whispered.

"What?"

I tried to explain, but the words caught in my throat as the memories rushed over me.

"That preacher was Carlisle's human father," Edward explained, frowning as he shared my memories with me. "An awful man."

"We always thought he was rather entertaining," Ronan snorted, but he dropped his smile immediately. "Oh! I'm sorry, Carlisle, I didn't mean to disrespect your father's memory."

"It's quite all right," I said distractedly. "Please, continue."

"Well, your father wasn't getting anywhere with his raids. After a while I was sickened by the innocent lives that he was taking, and I told Claudius that we needed to do something about it. He thought I was being stupid- going on about human lives like that. But it had been centuries since I had hunted anything but criminals, and I couldn't bear to see innocent humans be sacrificed just because my comrade thought it was funny to scare the townspeople with the bodies of his victims. Anyway, we hatched a plan. The next time your father went on one of his raids, we were going to let him find us, and make a great show of being chased out of town. The idea was that after that, there wouldn't be a reason for any more unnecessary human deaths."

"That was quite a bold plan," Edward said. "No wonder the Volturi executed your coven."

"Edward!" I hissed.

"What? I meant it as a compliment."

_For heaven's sake, they were his friends!_

He sighed. "You're right, of course. My apologies… again."

Ronan just chuckled, looking back and forth between the two of us. "I know," Edward said in response to some unspoken thought. "And he has five more back home. Please, continue."

"Well, like I said, the Volturi were already on their way, though we didn't know that at the time. And we foolishly told ourselves that the Guard would have approved of our little plan to get the humans to relax. Claudius himself thought it was hilarious- just another adventure."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Are you saying that you _let_ me find you that night?"

"No. Our plan never played out, _because_ of you. We were about to go through with it when we noticed that you had taken over for your father in the raids, and that you were actually using your head. We decided to wait just a bit, to see what you would do. You almost found us, two weeks before the night in question. We had been staying in an abandoned barn, and-"

"I remember," I said excitedly. "When we got there, I found several sets of clothing, and there was an odd sweet smell in the air of the barn. And there was no trace of food."

"Yes. Anyway, that was the night that we took refuge in the sewer. Not exactly the best hotel in town, but it was almost morning and we had to disappear quickly."

"I always thought that the sewer was your home," I confessed, feeling rather silly. Now that I thought about it, a vampire would never willingly subject himself to such a place.

He made a face. "It _was_ our home, for those two miserable weeks. Even Claudius lost his sense of humor by the end, and we were famished. We were all accustomed to feeding at least every five days. But London was so busy that we didn't dare risk coming out while we were hearing any footfalls. It would have been one thing to get chased out of town by a fanatic- who most people wouldn't have believed, anyway- but another thing to pop out of the sewer in the middle of a busy street- and it was quite busy, most nights. We didn't have _that_ much of a death wish. Of course, that was exactly what happened in the end. How _did_ you find us, anyway?"

"I had different methods than my father," I said sadly. "He would find someone who he thought worthy of condemnation, and then provide the necessary evidence after the fact. My own brand of investigation was quite different. After I had almost caught you in the barn, I began asking around, and I finally found a boy who had seen "something funny" going on that night in the street by his house. He had only seen a pale streak, and felt a breeze, but he also noticed the lid to the sewer rattling for a moment. So I spent that night in one of the nearby houses, watching the sewer lid, and I did see it lift once- just for a split second, and I thought I saw someone coming out."

"That was Claudius. He was going mad with thirst by that point- we all were. He lifted the lid and started to get out, but he came back in when he heard a door opening."

"Yes, that was me, trying to get a closer look," I said. "By the time I stepped outside the lid was back in place, and I assumed the vampire either left already or gone back inside. The next night, I got together all the willing men in my congregation and we waited around the sewer lid, after instructing the families on that street to stay silently in their homes. We must have stood out there for hours, keeping as quiet as we could. And then- well, you know the rest."

Ronan whistled. "Impressive. And what a sight I must have looked! I can't say you caught me at my best."

I finally laughed. "This whole time, I've been thinking of you as a savage, filthy monster who lurked in the sewers of London, and who had died of old age long ago!"

Ronan raised his eyebrows. "Old age?"

"Well, it was some time before I learned that I was immortal. And when I saw you, you looked so bedraggled, and you were trembling with- oh, I suppose that was thirst."

"Of course," Ronan said, amused.

"Anyway, my interpretation was that you were ancient- I had heard you speaking Latin, after all. I suppose that by the time I learned that we were immortal, I had already formed my opinion of you, and I never really thought about it after that."

Ronan turned to Edward. "When we decided it was quiet enough, we were ready to make our escape. I opened the lid and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. Imagine my surprise when I saw an angry mob, led by your Carlisle and armed to the teeth with torches, wooden stakes and pitchforks! I knew it was too late to go back in, but I figured that I could draw the crowd away from the rest of my friends. I called down into the sewer for them to wait, and where to meet me outside the city. I took off down the street, and I would have kept running, if Carlisle here hadn't smelled so delectable. I couldn't help myself. I turned around and attacked without thought, but I had only begun to drink when the rest of the mob began to catch up. I dropped my prey and lashed out, killing a couple men and stealing away a third who smelled promising. I would have taken you," he said, turning to me, "but the dead men had fallen on top of you, and the crowd was already running past that part of the street. Anyway, I took my new prey and easily ran out of town. I'm afraid I didn't give you a second thought until I had fed, and by that time it was too crowded to go retrieve you."

"You would have come back for me?" I asked.

"Of course. Though not for the reason you're thinking. I was going to come back and finish the job. I knew your blood wouldn't be any good by that point, but I was going to kill you while you were in transition. Like I said, I wouldn't wish this life on anyone."

I swallowed, thinking how close I had come to never waking up. "So why didn't you come back the next night and kill me?"

Ronan sighed. "I did. Or rather, I was on my way. I was coming back to find you, but also because my friends hadn't come to meet me at the arranged location. But I soon caught the scent of several other vampires, and I could also smell vampire flesh burning outside the city limits. I knew that the Volturi had come for us. I turned and ran up into Scotland, and I waited an entire month before coming back to look for you. After I gave up on finding your scent, I went back into the sewer to see if any of my friends had survived, but they were gone- I found only their fading scents, mingled with the scents of the Volturi guards who had executed them. I recognized one of them. I reasoned that you had probably been destroyed, as well. But I did think of you sometimes, Carlisle- I always wondered if you had somehow managed to hide during your transition, and escaped the purge."

"I did hide," I said, wrinkling my nose as I remembered the smell of the rotting potatoes- which, it now seemed, was what had saved me. "I buried myself in a root cellar and stayed there until I was done. I knew what I was, and that my father would persecute me, so I held my breath and ran right out of town."

Ronan sighed. "So you endured the change, and woke up alone. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Carlisle. I wish I had come back sooner- maybe I could have found you. I wouldn't have been able to kill you by that point, but at least I could have taught you and kept you company. So you fed on your way out of town?"

"No, I didn't feed for months, actually. I didn't want to hurt anyone."

Ronan's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Months? How?!"

"Because he's Carlisle," Edward said, his voice warm. "Carlisle has never killed a human in his life. He stayed away from humans and tried to –

 _No!_ I called silently. _There's no need to go into all that._ _He feels badly enough as it is._

"-ignore his appetite," Edward continued smoothly. "Anyway, he eventually came across a herd of deer, and discovered that he could sustain himself without taking human life. And the rest is history, I suppose."

"Amazing," Ronan sighed. "I can't tell you what peace this brings me, to meet you and see how well you've turned out. It's a good thing the Volturi came when they did, or I would have…" he shuddered.

"But you didn't," Edward said firmly. "And I would hardly associate the word 'good' with the Volturi, anyway."

"Well, times are changing," Ronan said, shrugging. "I've heard rumors that their authority has finally been challenged. There was some sort of standoff in the northwestern U.S. five years ago-"

He broke off, glancing between Edward and I as we both sucked in our breath. "Yes… that was us, actually," Edward admitted. "Though I wouldn't say that we _challenged_ the Volturi."

" _You're_ the Olympic Coven?" Ronan gasped.

I frowned. "The what?"

"The Olympic Coven," he repeated. "Every time I run into someone, I hear about the huge, talented coven that managed to send the Volturi on the run. Is it true that you've got a tame army of werewolves?"

I laughed, imaging Jacob and his brothers marching in step. Edward just rolled his eyes. "Not an army," I corrected. "But we do count them as our allies- and some of them, our friends. And yes, they did stand with us."

Edward and I spent the rest of the morning telling the story of the Volturi's accusation in 2006, and all the events surrounding our defense. When we had finished the tale, Ronan asked if we thought there would be another confrontation in the future.

"I certainly hope not," I sighed. "But I really can't say that I have any reason to trust Aro not to try something down the road."

"We've got Alice keeping an eye out," Edward put in. "And one of my brothers is always working on strategy, just in case. And many of our allies have agreed to stand with us again, should the need arise."

"Well, the same goes for me," Ronan said. "If there's ever a need, I will stand and fight with you as well."

Edward and I shared a smile, and nodded our thanks.

"It seems we've finally caught up to the current day," Ronan said. "So, what brings you to London?"

"There's an exhibition of Baroque painters at the Nation Gallery, starting tomorrow. Edward brought me here as a Father's Day gift."

"That's funny," Ronan said. "I was planning on attending the exhibition, as well. In fact, I came to the library last night to look up everything I could about my favorite painter. Are you familiar with the work of Solimena?"

"Solimena is the main reason we're here," Edward said. "He painted the Volturi back in the 1700s, and-"

I held my finger to my lips, indicating I wanted it to be a surprise. "Why don't we attend together?" I asked.

"Perfect!" Ronan said. "I must admit, I've always been curious to see what Aro and Marcus look like. There are some duplications of his work in some of the books I've read, but most of them are hand-drawn, and poorly done. And I've seen Caius in person before- his was the scent I recognized, back in 1663. I met him back in the sixth century, when he and his guards were touring the vampire world to announce the new law of secrecy."

"Those must have been strange times," Edward said in a far-off voice. "I can't imagine a world, for better or for worse, _without_ the Volturi."

Ronan snorted. "It really wasn't that different, in most of the world. There were a few covens- like the Egyptians and the Dacians, that set themselves up like royalty, terrorizing their human neighbors. But back then, like now, most of us were nomads, and enjoyed the freedom that our anonymity gave us. We weren't quite as careful before the law, I suppose. But I certainly think the Volturi have over-reached their original mandate, and even that was a stretch to begin with."

I nodded. "Of course, in the matter of the-"

"We can debate the Volturi's usefulness all day," Edward said impatiently. "Or we can go buy a computer and introduce Ronan to the family."

"Could we?" Ronan asked eagerly. "I'm especially interested in seeing your daughter, Edward. You say she has brown eyes?"

"Yes, just like her mother's back when she was human," Edward answered softly. "They're the two most beautiful creatures on the face of the earth."

We continued walking until we found a computer store, and took our purchases to an abandoned apartment building. Ronan and I watched as Edward worked at vampire speed to set everything up. We had selected this building so that we could speak freely, and for its proximity to a strong wireless signal coming from an office building across the street. Edward had already picked up the password from someone's thoughts over there.

Ronan shook his head while we waited. "This has been the most fascinating day of my existence," he sighed. "Not only have I found you again, but I'm about to meet your entire coven- family, I mean. Our world has never felt so small, or so full of hope."

"And here we are, three generations together- and a fourth back home," Edward added with a smile, looking up from the laptop.

"You're right," I agreed. "I suppose Ronan is your grandfather, in a way." I turned to Ronan. "That is, if you don't mind my using such familiar terms-"

"Carlisle," he answered in a trembling voice. "Nothing would make me prouder than to consider you my son."

I wasn't prepared for the rush of tender emotion that his words brought me.

"I would be honored," I said thickly. I stared at the man before me, marveling at the blissful change taking place in my heart. I had spent every day of my human life waiting, in vain, for my father to say that he was proud of me. But now, here in the city that I had always associated with my failure as a son, was my true father. And he was… _proud_ of me.

I only hoped that Ronan was able to feel some of the joy that I had felt, over my many years of "parenting".

Without looking away from the computer, Edward nodded slightly, tilting his head toward Ronan, who was staring at me with such love and pride that I couldn't help smiling. As much as I missed Esme and my other children, my life felt so complete all of a sudden, standing here with both my father and my son. I felt as light as a feather. I felt _young_.

.

.

.

After spending two hours on Skype, introducing Ronan to his daughter-in-law, grandchildren and great-granddaughter, we spent the rest of the day exploring, sharing stories, and showing each other places around London that we remembered. When night fell, we took him out for his first animal hunt, which went quite well.

The next day, Edward and Ronan had a good laugh back at the hotel as they watched me dye my hair and don my eyeglasses. Ronan was curious why I felt the need for the disguise, but we told him that he would figure it out soon enough. The exhibition was marvelous, and Edward and I waited for the moment when Ronan would see me in the painting that I had sent over before us. When he saw it, he burst out laughing, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"Sorry," he muttered, coughing delicately into his hand. We waited until the humans had turned away again, and then I quietly explained the time I had spent with the Volturi. After I had finished the tale, Edward cheekily took a picture with his phone, posing me next to the painting of myself. We all laughed again behind our hands, feeling like three schoolboys attending a grown-up gathering.

Edward was quiet for a moment after that. "Carlisle, would you mind if I spoke privately to Ronan for a moment?" he asked.

I nodded curiously, and stepped out of the room, waiting for them in the hall. When they emerged, Ronan was looking thoughtful, and Edward was staring at him, concentrating.

.

.

.

We spent every minute of the next two days with my father. I hadn't said the word yet aloud, but it was how I was beginning to think of him. Ronan was gentle, and wise, and funny, and warm- everything I had always wanted my human father to be. I listened in awe as he told us the tales of his many travels, and the thousands of topics, and hundreds of languages, that he had studied. And Ronan listened in awe as I told him everything I had been up to since the night he had changed me. And though I had told the stories before, it was different this time. Ronan's approval of my life, and of my choices, meant so much to me. And for the first time, I was able to truly appreciate the role that I had filled in Edward's life as _his_ father, and how dependent he was-would always be- on my love and approval. As I grew closer to my new father in those two days, I grew closer to my son, as well.

.

.

.

After Edward and I had checked our baggage at Heathrow, Ronan waited with us in the common area until it was time for us to board. Edward decided he wanted to go buy a newspaper.

"Could I borrow your wallet, Carlisle? I don't think I have any cash," I opened my wallet to take out a couple of pounds, but he snatched the whole thing out of my hand, walking quickly toward the drugstore which was this wing of the airport.

"Maybe you should raise his allowance," Ronan joked as we watched him walk away. I shook my head, laughing quietly.

"Edward is a remarkable young man," he continued. "And it's uncanny how much you two resemble each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, not your appearance, though you both share the beauty common to our kind. I mean your respect for human life, your kindness, your deference- though it's more than that. Don't you see the way he watches you, copies you? Why, he even walks in step with you!"

"I've never thought about that," I said honestly. "Though you're right- Edward is a remarkable young man. He's had quite a unique life, what with his mind-reading, and more recently with his falling in love with a human, and all the events that came about because of that. He's made it through trial after trial, and come out with more integrity and wisdom than ever before. I couldn't be prouder of him." I knew Edward was listening- I just hoped he believed me.

"Ronan," I continued hesitantly, "I want you to know that you're always welcome at our home- for a visit, or permanently."

"Yes, I would like that very much… a visit, I mean. I've been a nomad for a long time, Carlisle. I'm not sure how I would fare in such a busy household. But yes, I would love to meet the rest of your… _our_ family sometime soon."

"Just don't wait too long," I said with a wink. "Renesmee is still growing every day." We had already supplied Ronan with our address, contact information and his own cell phone. "Oh, and before I forget," I added, "If you see Alistair…"

"I'll tell him it's safe to travel again," Ronan laughed. "Though I doubt he'll believe me."

Edward returned with a newspaper and a mischievous look on his face, handing back my wallet. "We'd better board," he said, nodding over towards our gate.

Ronan and I stood, embracing each other. "I hope to see you soon, Father," I whispered into his shoulder, savoring the name as I awkwardly spoke it for the first time.

"Yes, and remember what I said the other day," Edward said mysteriously as he embraced Ronan after me.

"I will," Ronan promised. "It was a great pleasure to meet you, Edward." He turned to me one last time.

"I won't say goodbye, Carlisle, because I do plan to visit soon. But I will say thank you."

"I'm only sorry we haven't crossed paths before this," I replied. "To think you were worrying about me all this time…"

"Yes, it is a great relief," he admitted. "But I was thanking you for giving me a family. Even though I haven't met most of them yet, you all have already brought me unspeakable joy and pride. I love you, son." I stood frozen, choking on my own emotion as he embraced me again.

"Come on," Edward said, tugging on my sleeve and snapping me out of my thoughts. Ronan was already gone.

When we had boarded the plane, I just sat silently, staring at the seat in front of me. Edward finally poked my arm. "I have another gift for you," he said slyly. "Open your wallet."

I slipped it out of my pocket, opening it and giving Edward a questioning look. He reached over and thumbed through the pictures to show me the one he had just added, when he had gone into the drugstore: my father, his golden eyes already edited in. He must have taken the picture back at the art exhibit.

"That's how he'll look the next time we see him," Edward said quietly. "I may not have Jasper's gift, but I can see how immensely relieved he is to learn about the animal diet. He's determined never to hurt a human again. His mind is remarkable, Carlisle- so like your own."

I traced my father's face thoughtfully as the plane took to the air, leaving London behind. The last time I had departed, I had been in despair- grieving the future I had lost, and the pitiful, wretched life that I had gained. Now, as I watched the city fade away beneath the clouds, I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, leaving my fingers on the picture of my father, and breathing in the comforting scent of my son. In a few short hours, I would hold my wife in my arms again, and hear the familiar chatter of my children and grandchild. Yes, it was very different from the last time I had left. This time, I was the luckiest man in the world.


End file.
